A MOTIIER'S VOICE. No! never-never ! I am doom'd to be 135 [He dashes the casement back. Hell, now receive me! Take thy son again ! So--I am That which I have been ;—that I lately was. Can look—can feel-can ponder. I am harness'd Invincibly in proof; invulnerable; Touchless in adamant. Now to my object! "You will never obtain my father's consent to our union, Dear Armand,” said Louise Devin to a handsome well-grown youth who stood by her side, watching every turn of her animated countenance with looks beaming affectionate love," I fear he never will consent, for though he loves me dearly, he loves money dearly too, and is fully persuaded that there can be no true happiness without wealth. "I will try my fortune however," said Armand, "and should I prove unsuccessful I will follow my brave father's example-hasten to the army, and either return a victor worthy of your love or perish in the attempt,"-" And leave me in the mean time to be pestered with the addresses of that odious Monsieur Francmare, the postmaster." "Should he dare," cried Armand, raising his voice. "Hush! hush!" whispered Louise, placing her finger lightly on his lips, "you will awake my father! See, you have already done so ; there, there, go." But dearest Louise," "See, see, he stirs," and however reluctant Armand was compelled to tear himself away. And now, gentle reader, while the old gentleman awakes and rubs his eyes, let us introduce you to the principal personages in my little drama. The father, then, of Louise was a widower, who kept a small auberge at Passy, three leagues from Paris, and though not rich, had scraped together a small sum to give with his fair daughter in marriage, and fair she was-happy, smiling, good tempered-all the young folks of the village loved her, and so did all the old ones too for she was so kind and free hearted, and no one in distress ever passed the door unrelieved if it was in her power by any means to alleviate their sufferings. Armand Lauristow was the elder son of an invalided officer who had retired upon his half-pay to rent a small farm in the neighbourhood, with a large family, well earned, having the Cross of Merit, and a scanty pittance, with which, however, he contrived to live respectably, performing all the farm work with the assistance of his son Armand, who was strong and able. Monsieur de Francmare, the postmaster as he was called by courtesy, because his inn was the largest in the little village, bore the title of the Poste Royale, and occasionally furnished a pair of bay cattle, a la Rozinante, to transport travellers to or from Paris, was a thin spare man who had seen above fifty summers and yet was as gay and lively in the sun as the youngest of the throng, and when once seated on his favourite steed, (for he had a favourite one,) and his legs cased in his jack boots, he used to make the echoes resound with his cheerful "Vif ! vif! allons ! allons!" as he cracked his heavy whip round his head, and without letting it fall on his horse's sides, urged them to their speed as he via'd them "A Paris! a Paris," or "A Vitz! a Vitz," as it might happen to be; and the old man used to boast, that in his time he had driven noble and royal, learned and simple, and used to add too, with a laugh, that he had not found any great difference in them; every one possessing that usual human frailty-an anxious desire to reach the end of his journey, certainly a very excusable fault in those who had the chance to be driven by the worthy postmaster, as his stumbling horses and lumbering post diligence were not very desirable companions for a wearied man. 66 Few men arrive at a certain age without acquiring some peculiar habits or customs, and the father of Louise had latterly indulged himself with a comfortable nap in his easy chair after the toils of the morning were gone by; of course this habit was not unnoticed by Louise and Armand, who used during that happy interval to enjoy an uninterrupted tête à tête, when the affairs of Love were diligently discussed by them, though not always with such ardour as on the afternoon in which our tale begins. Unfortunately for Louise her father, as might be expected, did not awake in the mildest temper. "Ha! Louise," said he, "what was that?" 'Nothing, mon pere." Nothing, pooh! pooh! I dare say it was that scape-grace boy Armand ; but, however, he shall not plague me or you much longer. Do you know Louise I have resolved that you shall marry." Me, father, marry!" " And why not? I am getting old, and I should be sorry to leave you alone in the world. No, no, I have thought of a man who will bring you true happiness, for he is rich and well to do," -“And young, father?" "Pshaw! what has that to do with it? But you have always been a good girl, and I know you will make your poor old father happy in wedding the man of his choice, and ah! here he comes i'faith," and the loud cracks of a whip were heard at the porch, an infallible sign that Mons. Francmare was not far off, for it was his custom never to be seen out of doors unless accompanied by his favourite heavy-loaded post whip; another proof of what I before advanced, that few men arrive at a certain age without acquiring certain habits, some of them ridiculous enough. "Is this the man, father, you mean for my husband an old, shrivelled-why he looks for all the world like a barber's block." "You are an impudent, saucy-but you know, Louise, I will not hear those I respect laughed at, and Mons. Francmare is a worthy, wealthy,”—“ Old man, say what you will, father, and I do not like him. I am sure you will not sacrifice my happiness merely for his money, mon chère pere." ; Foolish girl, his money will make you happy; if you cannot be civil to him you must not offend him ;" so giving her a kind kiss she tripped away. The worthy postmaster entered the room-and a postmaster worthy the Poste Royale did Francmare appear that day-his hair, frizzled and powdered, was drawn clear off from his face and diverged at right angles in every direction; his long queue descended to his leathern unmentionables; his small three-cornered hat was under his left arm; his huge whip gracefully flourished in his right hand, and a tremendous nosegay of all the flowers in season ornamented his richly embroidered silk waistcoat-in short, he presented a true picture of a cornice under the ancient regime in all its glory. I need not say that he was kindly received, the short conversation which I have just related will of course show that ; and when I add, that the subject on which he entered, the happiness of Louise, to be accomplished by presenting her with his hand-the Poste Royale and its master were placed fully before the dazzled view of Mons. Devine, the warmth with which he grasped the hand, the tear which trembled in his grey eye, and the fervour with which he received Francmare's offers, plainly told that whatever Louise might think upon the subject her father considered that in uniting her to the postmaster of St. Denis he really was rendering her happy for life. Poor Armand unfortunately made his appearance soon after the happy postmaster had gone rejoicing on his way, flourishing and cracking his whip and cutting capers à la Gardelle, to the surprise of the young folks of that quiet town. Poor Armand I say, for poor he was in every respect, a circumstance which greatly abridged his interview with Mons. Devine, whose short and peremptory refusal was accompanied by the painful intelligence that he had already disposed of Louise's hand, (her heart being but a trifle was put out of the question,) to his rival the postmaster. Disappointed in all his hopes, poor Armand slowly retraced his way to his father's lowly cottage; but the coming day produced a resolution that altered the face of affairs altogether, and a lovely day it was, in the early summer time, bright and invigorating, - neither too damp nor too dry-the sun neither too hot nor too cloudy-the NO. IV. VOL. I. N leaves glistening with dew drops, and whispering crisply to the rising breeze, while a thousand birds sung their varied songs on every sprig,-in short, it was one of those which make the dullest think and the thoughtful happy and cheerful. Mons. Francmare had just taken his post under the huge old elm from which his heavy sign swung to the wind, and, deep in thought, was tracing figures on the sand with the thong of his whip, when a stranger was observed approaching on the road from Paris; his figure was tall and commanding; his air had a military frankness, and no one could look on his mild countenance without feeling that he was one of a superior rank in life; still his dress was neat to plainness, and his manners easy and unaffected. Addressing himself to the abstracted postmaster, he inquired if he could be accommodated with refreshments. Francmare, without deigning to raise his eyes, merely glanced at the stranger's dusty boots (an indication that he was a pedestrian), and pointing with his whip told him that what he required might be procured at the auberge a little further on the road; then relapsing into his thoughtful mood the stranger was left to pursue his course. Bending his steps towards the auberge, the stranger, having proceeded a short distance turned round and looking up to the staring announcement over Francmare's head, smiled as he said to himself "and even the court extends its influence even to this distant spot-like a pebble thrown into a lake which displaces the water round it in increasing circles till they reach the shore on either side, this humble courier, who in any other situation would have been civil and attentive, cannot even look upon me because I do not travel post. Ah! such is poor human nature; clothe a man more richly than his wont, give him a sounding name, and hats fly off and knees unbend by those who, while they know him not, would pass him with contempt." Such were his thoughts as he approached and entered the little wayside inn, where Louise was spreading a clean coarse cloth on a massive deal table that stood in the recess formed by the long casement window which gave light to this common sitting room. In the huge chimney sat an elderly man, who was stirring the contents of a large cauldron which was bubbling and frothing over a crackling wood fire, made upon a large plate of iron on the stone floor. In front and round the fire were laid two or three rough lean dogs of the greyhound species, basking and sleeping without shewing any uneasiness at the intrusion of the stranger. To his request for chocolate and a private room if such were possible, Louise, courtseying, led the way into a neat small parlour, when she informed the stranger that his chocolate should be prepared immediately. Evidently pleased with the civility and promptitude of the fair Louise, he placed himself in a chair and looked casually round the room; an open window, surrounded with jessamine and clematis filled the air with fragrance; the red brick floor was without a spot; the old oaken table and chairs shone like mirrors; while large bouquets of roses, lilies, and honeysuckle, were scattered through the room in old fashioned china vases. A short time had passed ere Louise entered and covered the table with a bright pewter vessel steaming with the rich essence of chocolate, another containing boiled milk, white bread home-made, and butter fresh from the dairy, eggs, &c.; then having placed a small bell on the stranger's right hand she withdrew. It was not long ere Louise was summoned to the stranger's presence. When she entered he was seated at the table looking over some papers that lay before him, and for an instant she paused, struck by the dignity of his appearance; having laid aside his hat, his clear fair open forehead and bright blue eyes bespoke a man above the common rank. "Ma petite damoiselle," said he, "I am referred by these papers to a Major Lauristow living somewhere hereabout, and wish for your assistance in finding out his residence." Certainly, Monsieur, the Major is well known by all the village, and will be loved where he is known for he is so affable, so kind, so humane." "Indeed! I am happy to hear so excellent an account of my old comrade." "Monsieur then knows the Major." "We have served together, but I dare say he will not recollect me now; he has a large family I believe." 'He has indeed, Sir, and you will be sorry to hear that he has been latterly very ill, which I fear has been in 66 THE INVALID. 139 creased by his anxiety for his family." "Indeed!" "But then Armand has been so good and affectionate, superintending the farm and directing everything,' "And who is Armand, my pretty girl?" "His eldest son, sir, and he is beloved by the whole village; his father dotes upon him." "And deservedly I should think when a maiden as pretty as yourself takes such an interest in his welfare," said the stranger, smiling, adding, “ I should think he would make a good husband for you." "Ah! sir," replied Louise, blushing, "his father says he is too young to marry, and my father says he is too poor to marry." "And you do not agree with either the one or the other; but come, I have been successful before in making up love matters, and must try what I can do now. I am going to Major Lauristow's, and shall see Armand, and if I find he is as deserving of your love as you represent him to be, I will try what effect I can have with your father in removing his objection; and as a pledge that I am in earnest, keep this token in remembrance of me and my promise:" so saying, the stranger placed a piece of coin in Louise's hand, and laying down some silver on the table for his breakfast, withdrew from the room. Louise hastily tripped by him to the outer porch. "If Monsieur will have the goodness to turn to the right up the road until he reaches that row of small white cottages to the left, a lane will lead him directly to the Major's farm; you cannot miss it," cried she, pointing with her finger the road to be pursued. Thanks, ma petite belle ! I shall be sure to find it with such a pretty directress," and, laying his hand gently on hers, "remember and hope," said he; then raising his hat, he proceeded on his route. 66 'See, father," cried Louise, running into the cottage, see what a handsome present the gentleman has made me." I'faith! a valuable gold coin; let me see, (putting on his spectacles,) but not of our France, no-Joseph. Imperat. Germanorum.' Why, this is of great value." "Did you look at the stranger, father?" "Not I, girl; and now I wish I had.” "I am sure he was so kind and so affable that he must be something more than he seems, although he did walk alone." "Well, Louise, the day has begun fortunately with you; let us here hope that it will continue so, (and he smiled) perhaps some more good may reach you ere long. Aha! my pretty" -"The stranger has gone to Major Lauristow's, father, and he said something about our hearing of him again." "Pooh! pooh! I don't mean that; no, no, Louise, you will see, you will see; and so now let us attend to the business of the day; everything in its turn." A short walk brought the stranger within sight of the farm; it was an old rambling building, with high gable roofs heavily thatched; huge over-hanging porches borne up by the rough unhewn trunks of small trees, and with little casement windows; a large garden occupied the foreground, presenting a picture of animated life; groups of children of all ages and sizes were scattered over it, busily employed in gardening, each according to his ability-some were weeding-some digging-others wheeling barrows-and all under the superintendence of a strong active youth, with an open countenance, sparkling eyes, and a ruddy cheek embrowned with health and exercise. Upon the stranger's approaching the gate, he came gracefully forward, and in answer to an inquiry for Major Lauristow, said, If Monsieur will have the kindness to walk this way I will call my father down, for since his illness he has scarcely left his room." "Tell him, then, that an old comrade wishes to see him." "He will be happy to know that, I am sure," said the youth, "for everything relating to his former days has interest with him ;" so saying, he ushered the stranger into a long low room occupying the entire length of the house, with a window in front looking to the garden, and at the back looking over the farm buildings; placing a chair he withdrew. The stranger looked round the room; it was plainly and almost barely furnished, very clean and neat, containing useful and necessary articles, but nothing approaching to luxury. The door opened, and the Major entered, leaning upon his son's arm. The stranger rose and saluted him, and Armand having seated his father on a chair opposite the stranger retired. After a pause, in which the Major appeared to be recovering from his fatigue, the stranger said, " Major Lauristow, I am truly sorry to find |